


A Place for Pusan

by bethany81707



Series: Stories of Garreg Mach [29]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Flash Fic, Future Character Death, Future Fic, Gen, Job Application, Negotiations, Renaissance Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethany81707/pseuds/bethany81707
Summary: Cichol approaches a different Garreg Mach to apply for the position he once held. Hubert holds his reservations.
Series: Stories of Garreg Mach [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552720
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	A Place for Pusan

Cichol supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised at the appearance of the monastery. Fifty years was clearly plenty of time for Edelgard’s new society to leave its mark, for the innovations had left the main building completely free of any religious iconography. Stepping inside the entrance hall made things even less recognisable, as the walls were now covered with paintings and artistic statues decorated the corners. Tearing his eyes away from an unnerving one depicting Edelgard’s pre-battle tension, his eyes locked onto Hubert making his approach.

At least, he looked like Hubert. His black hair had turned completely white, his clean shaven pallor was covered by a thick moustache and beard, and his wiry limbs had become skeletal, but he still looked plenty fit in spite of his cane. Cichol could feel the magic that Hubert was no doubt still in touch with.

“You look familiar,” Hubert remarked, pulling out a pair of glasses and fumbling to get them onto his nose.

“We have met before, Vestra. But that was decades ago, and you were a young man then,” Cichol volunteered.

“...Seteth?” Hubert asked. The magical energy got more hostile, and Cichol held up a hand.

“You can call me Pusan, now,” Cichol suggested, and the hostility faded. It was not gone entirely, but Cichol suspected Hubert’s paranoia would not have dulled with age.

“I take it you’re here on peaceful terms? We might as well walk and talk to my office,” Hubert said, turning around and beginning his long, deliberate walk. Cichol followed cautiously, not wanting to outpace the older man.

“Have you retired yet?” Cichol asked.

“Not yet. Maria has been urging me to, but I haven’t found a successor to my liking,” Hubert said. He paused, as a child came up to see him.

“Thank you, Mr Hubert,” he said, offering a book to him. Cichol checked the title:  _ Understanding Faerghan Vows of Honour and Adapting Them To A Modern World _ .

“Keep it, sonny. If I need it, I can always get another,” Hubert said, waving the boy along.

“You’ve rediscovered the metal mold printing press,” Cichol observed. Hubert gave a knowing smirk, acknowledging the observational skills that allowed him to make such a realisation with so few clues.

“We found a most interesting collection of reading material during the renovations. The literacy of kids like Bartholomew there has been drastically improved by having so many books in circulation, especially some fiction like Bernadetta’s Henry Cooper stories as well as educational tomes. We figured the risks of misinformation and… disparity were worth the boons,” Hubert explained, holding back a scoff.

“I understand. So about that successor… I came to volunteer myself,” Cichol requested. Hubert let out that scoff.

“Pusan, was it? I acknowledge your right to set aside your identity, but there’s no escaping your longevity and your link to the Maculate One. Lady Edelgard fought a bloody war in order to remove your sister’s influence from the world, and it would be doing a disservice to her memory to appoint you to such a high position,” he explained.

“Memory?” Cichol asked, distracted from his need to rebut Hubert’s argument.

“Eleanor died a few years ago. The autopsy noted a buildup of some substances around her heart that may have caused it to give way, but we have yet to identify what those substances are. We’re fairly sure it wasn’t poison, though,” Hubert said. It seemed long enough ago that Hubert was at peace with it, at least, but Cichol took a few minutes to compose himself before continuing the conversation.

“Your position is to maintain a course for Empresses to take free from biases and reverting the policies of their predecessors without good reason. Isn’t that what I’m good at?” Cichol asked. Hubert chuckled, and while it wasn’t the chilling chuckle he favoured as a boy, Cichol was filled with nostalgia hearing it.

“When you put it like that, you do sound like someone well suited for the job. But you’ll be keeping the position well after Maria is dead. You need some sort of accountability if I’m going to let you take the job,” Hubert said.

“I was afraid of that. I know any promise I make to this Maria woman will mean little once she’s passed on, even if I’ve played my part for her entire life. I would propose, then, that you only employ me for as long as Maria lives. I’ll renegotiate with a next of kin, and if it turns out I’m not suited to the position, I will take Darla and return to my refuge. I never approved of my previous employer’s methods, and I am far more interested in observing the evolution of humanity than suppressing it,” Cichol said. Hubert nodded vaguely.

“I don’t believe you. But I was there in the thick of Edelgard’s war with the Maculate One. Maria is young and has only heard of the war through her grandparents’ stories. Some might say she would be the fairer judge, and I would like to see you meet her approval. If nothing else, you can have the position for a year or two, so I can retire already,” Hubert said, his knees buckling.

“That is more than fair, Hubert. I didn’t expect you to forgive me, but I wanted to make sure I said my piece to you. I had hoped Edelgard were still around, but she’s heard from me before, she knows my position. So who is this Maria?” Cichol asked.

“Maria Sauin Aegir is the current Prime Minister for Empress Kirsch. She has inherited her grandfather’s head for politics, unlike her father, and she has been excellent at debating the merits of the Empress’s ideas. If anyone too young to have lived through the war would judge you, I must admit she might be one of the toughest,” Hubert explained. Cichol nodded, imagining a female Ferdinand. Tales of Ferdinand’s political savvy had made their way even to Teutates.

Cichol was nervous to face Maria.


End file.
